Healing
by Ryua Malfoy
Summary: If he had to have a roommate in his hospital room... well there's no one he'd rather stay with. Takes place at the end of Fullmetal Alchemist Brotherhood.


There were perks to having a private hospital room. Well, a semi-private one, but considering the perk in particular he was thinking off, that was a moot point.

He'd lost track of how long he'd been in the hospital. It was hard to tell what time it was when you couldn't see the sun or the clock on the wall, and he wasn't about to keep waking his roommate up to ask her what time it was. She needed her rest.

It certainly seemed to have done her some good. It must have been the middle of the night, since the hospital was quiet, no nurses or visitors walking up and down the corridors. He'd woken up abruptly to find her joining him on his narrow cot, curling against him. His arm reached out automaticly to wrap around her shoulders, and she snuggled reflexively into him. Lieutenant Ross had showed up a couple of days ago with clothing for both of them, and he was surprised at how much more like himself it made him feel, even if he couldn't see to give himself a shave on his own.

The fabric of her shirt was smooth, soft under his fingers, light enough to be a blouse instead of a sweater, and he could almost feel right through it to the skin below. He knew he was really only in here for observation at this point, and so he could re-learn how to take care of himself... but it wasn't until her breath caught and she pressed against him that he realized just how recovered he was, and how eager he was to celebrate his survival. Their survival.

"Colonel..." her voice was soft, barely above a breath, but he could hear it as clear as if she were barking orders on the battlefield. He'd never appreciated the rich tones, the sheer amount of expression she could fit into the merest word.

He felt his lips curve in a hint of a smile, his other hand reaching across to drape across her waist, mapping out the curve up to her hip. "Lieutenant," he replied just as softly, the tips of his fingers running under the edge of her blouse.

She smiled against him, he could feel her lips move against his shoulder, and he felt his own grin broaden. It wasn't often she showed pure happiness, didn't censor it or push it away. She shifted, her body moving deliciously against his as she moved up the bed, one arm draping across his chest, her breath soft and warm on his neck.

He gave a soft, contented sigh, letting his hand trail just a little farther up her blouse, indulging his fingers in running over her soft, warm skin. He could feel her tense just a little, then move forward just enough for her lips to brush against his neck. His breath hitched, then he let it out in a long, slow exhale when the light touch turned to a more deliberate kiss, just a hint of moisture on her lips, cool on his neck when she pulled away.

All he was wearing at this moment was a plain soft shirt and briefs, and he was extremely glad of the fact, since even those were getting restrictive. Her hand slid down his stomach without warning, fingers wrapping around the cloth-covered bulge with her usual straightforward efficiency. She handled him as easily as she handled her guns, and it wasn't long before he hand to reach for her wrist, pulling her off, gasping, "Wait. Not yet." His voice, even in a whisper, was still rougher than he'd expected. "I've got something else I want to do with that."

He couldn't see her smile, but he could feel it in her whole body, in the way she pressed into him, hear it in the almost-laugh of her breathing. His hand ran down over her body, marvelling at the soft warmth of her, such a contrast to her powerful soldier she was in uniform. Gently, he rolled her to her back, and she shifted sideways into the middle of the cot while he swung a leg over her, kneeling over her.

Hah. He was right, it was a blouse. He only fumbled a little as he slowly pulled them open, leaning down, his lips trailing down her chest with every inch he exposed. When he got halfway down and her skin still hadn't been interrupted by another layer of fabric, he actually moaned softly, his fingers still undoing the last of her buttons while his mouth trailed sideways, teasing over the gentle curve of her breast.

She gasped, arching up against his mouth, and he took the invitation, his lips finding the sensitive peak and teasing it into hardness. The final button came undone, and he raised his hand to her other breast, squeezing it gently. He trailed his free hand down her stomach, onto her hip, quite pleased to feel just the sensible, plain cotton line of her panties, the rest of her glorious long legs bare, smooth and powerful under his hand.

Even as distracted as she had to be, he was amused to feel her hands at his waist, staying focused despite his best efforts. She had him bare within moments, dropping his bedclothes onto the ground. Thinking that was hardly fair, he hooked his fingers into her panties, pulling them down. She squirmed helpfully out of them, tossing her blouse at the same time. Her hands were almost immediately up on his back, pulling him down against her, then sliding up his neck, twining in his hair.

Her mouth was on his, and he kissed her eagerly back, feeling like he was drowning, or starving, desperate for her in some fashion. Almost before he realized it, he'd slid between her legs, her hips angling up welcomingly. The smell of her was intoxicating, rich and salty and sweet and the most potent aphrodisiac he'd ever sampled. At least that's what he thought before he actually touched her core, and he groaned out loud at the sweet, hot wetness of her.

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to hurt her, and then her hands were down on his rear, nails digging in as she pressed him into her. With that kind of an invitation, he didn't bother to hold back, just sank himself to the hilt in her. She gasped softly underneath him, her hands sliding up, grabbing onto his shoulders.

It was the best thing he'd ever felt, ever heard, ever smelled, or tasted. Her skin was soft, faintly salty and clean tasting under his tongue, her hair cool, silky strands tangling around his fingers. She was warm and soft under him, and incredibly hot and stimulating around him, her body caressing him as he slowly thrust into her, drinking up every ounce of sensation he could.

They could have stayed like this forever in his opinion, but somehow all the yielding softness turned into surprising strength, and he found himself on his back, barely avoiding cracking his head on the bedframe. She didn't miss a beat, mounting him and starting to ride him eagerly, her hands trailing down his chest.

He reached up for her, hands curving around her waist. He wasn't sure whether it was a heightened sense of touch or his imagination, but he could still feel the tiny, intricate lines, the remaines of the circles on her back, then the harder, smoother skin of the scars he'd left there. His fingers tightened, his rhythm faltering as guilt spread through him, his hands exploring the extent of the damage.

She slowed her pace, let him explore over her back, leaning forwards as his fingers traced the ruins of the circles he knew off by heart, but just as he started to pull away, drew in a breath to speak, she leaned down the rest of the way, kissing him, her tongue invading his mouth, leaving no doubt in his mind that she didn't blame him for the pain, and wished he'd quit obsessing about it and pay attention to the rest of her.

How could he do anything but oblige? He returned the kiss, his hands slipping up over the scar across her neck, tangling in her hair, combing through it, running down her sides. She pulled away, leaving a soft, second kiss on his lips before straightening up, and started to ride him in earnest again. Her breath was coming in delicious, moaning gasps now, and after what seemed like delirious, wonderful hours, her energetic riding started to get erratic. Her fingers squeezed on his shoulders, and she made the most incredibly erotic sound he'd ever heard, a soft, whimpering sort of moan, her body trembling, her core throbbing and squeezing around him.

It couldn't have been more than a few seconds later that he gasped out an inarticulate warning to her, and she was abruptly off of him. The shock of cool air on his shaft made him suck in a rough breath, but then her mouth was on him and he was coming, arching up against her mouth, his entire body tingling, surging into her.

After a moment, she pulled gently off of him, and crawled back on top of him, leaning down to kiss him. Her mouth was just as sweet as ever, just the faintest hint of bitter saltiness on the back of her tongue. He could feel her smile against his lips, and then she climbed back out of his bed, and a few seconds later he heard her settle into her own.

Yes, having a private hospital room wasn't such a bad thing at all.


End file.
